Page 1 of Full Throttle

Chapter 1

Colby James screamed in horror but couldn’t utter a single sound. Reeling from the scene unfolding, she still had the presence of mind to sprint over toward the raging fire.

She had to get him out of that burning inferno. Only the blaze was too hot, making it impossible to get near but close enough that her skin felt like it was melting off the bones. The blistering heat licked at her hands and face. She put them up to protect herself and would have kept charging forward if someone hadn’t grabbed her from behind and held her back.

The air was thick with billowing black smoke. Colby choked and gasped for air. “No!” she cried out and, seconds later, dropped to her knees upon the realization that no one would be able to save him.

Feeling helpless, a deluge of tears fell from her eyes.

He was burning alive.

Colby’s head thrashed back and forth against her tear-soaked pillow. And just when she thought her heart would shatter into a million tiny pieces, she woke up.

In a panic and still coughing on the smoke from her dreams, Colby bolted upright. For the briefest of moments, she was completely disoriented until she recognized the soft yellow curtains of her bedroom.

A light sheen of perspiration covered her entire body. She threw off the comforter and placed a trembling hand over her racing heart.

Breathe in,she coached herself, exhale.Slowly, Colby released the air trapped in her lungs.

Another nightmare. This had been a bad one and felt far too real, even though her dream hadn’t exactly mirrored that fateful day, but it was close enough.

Colby closed her eyes and continued her breathing exercises several more times until she began to settle down. Once Colby felt more in control, she picked up the water bottle next to her bed and took a long sip.

She dreaded this time of year. It always brought on too many painful memories, both real and imagined.Why doesn’t the age-old adage of time healing all wounds not apply?

She worked hard to bury the pain of this anniversary. Colby did her best to keep busy for every waking moment of the day, but nights were another story. She couldn’t control those. It was then that every thought she desperately wanted to suppress would surface. This year had been particularly brutal. It was probably because there was so much uncertainty swirling around this anniversary.

Cloaked in darkness and silence, Colby couldn’t wait for the morning; only, this night seemed to last forever. Her anxiety levels were through the roof.

Colby glanced at the wall clock. The numbers glowed3:23 a.m. Ugh. Ten minutes from the last time I checked.Restless and worn-out, Colby rolled over onto her side and yawned.I’ll just stay awake.She was determined not to fall back to sleep because, as soon as her eyes closed, she knew those terrible nightmares would return.

They always did.

Less than an hour later, Colby’s eyes began to drift low, and not unlike most two-year-olds, she fought it. They fluttered open only to almost close several times. Finally, she succumbed to the darkness.

It was then that she was forced to relive the most painful day of her life . . . again.

The conditions for the race were perfect.

Colby basked in the smell of high-octane fuel and listened to the roar of the engines.

It was impossible to contain her emotions, so she didn’t even try. She was giddy with excitement as she walked around the garage, watching all the top drivers prepare.

The same energy that she felt was spread throughout the entire complex, but especially Daughtry Racing. They were awash with it because this race was special.

Daughtry Racing was about to make history. Colby fully understood the significance of the moment. Bill Lester was the only black man to ever race in a major NASCAR Cup series but had never won. Today would be the day that all changed. For the first time, a black man was going to win in a major NASCAR Cup race. Colby could feel it throughout her whole body, and she was going to be part of it. She didn’t care that her role mainly consisted of being a back-up stat recorder.

“What’s up, squirt?” She had been daydreaming when the man of the hour snuck up behind her.

Colby pivoted and glanced up into a pair of beautiful brown eyes. They called himThe Magicianbecause he was so good at getting in and out of tight jams while driving at ungodly speeds. He stood over six-feet tall with a muscular build and creamy smooth brown skin. The groupies didn’t care that he was black. Maybe that was part of the problem in a predominantly white and male-dominated sport.

Colby had overheard a few girls talking about his chiseled jawline, broad shoulders, and sexy-as-sin smile. They said he was impossibly handsome. Colby didn’t see him that way at all. To her, he was just an incredibly talented driver, gifted even.

He was her hero. In Colby’s mind, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, and nobody could tell her any differently.

She grinned from ear to ear. “You’re going to win this thing. I can feel it.”

He returned her smile. “I’m just trying to follow in your footsteps. When I was fifteen, I did not have your skills.”